


Hats Off to the Bull

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (mention) - Freeform, Also kinda like a coming out for Dean, Another Plot Twist: Happy Dean, Awkwardness, Bar/Club, Bull Rider Dean Winchester, Castiel is a Sweetheart, Episode: s12e11 Regarding Dean, Everyone Is Gay, Fluffy Ending, He Likes to Think He Is Anyway But He's a Bean So I'll Give It to Him, Humor, LITERALLY, LOTS of Flirting too, M/M, Plot Twists, Ride the Bull, Sexual Humor, Spoilers for S12, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-08 19:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13465236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: “Cas, that guy wanted the key to your Pearly Gates,” Dean chuckles, “‘Lucky me’? ‘I made it into Heaven’?” Cas still doesn’t seem enlightened so Dean persists, “He was flirting you!”Cas lifts his head, but his eyebrows don’t move from their rigid place. “Oh. I just thought he was delusional.”Dean laughs and returns to nursing his whiskey, “Cas, I love you and hate you at the same time.”





	Hats Off to the Bull

**Author's Note:**

> Named after the song by Chevelle because... well, you'll see why it's appropriate.

"Dean, this isn't research," Cas states flatly, standing outside the bar. "And please don't say—"

"You're damn right it is."

"And he's saying it..."

"I'm practically doing all researchers a favor,” Dean announces, forging ahead, “being a willing test subject for the effects of alcohol on handsome clientele, and Goddamnit, I won't rest until science has their answer."

"So you're a guinea pig?"

Jokes on him, because Cas gets a taste of his own grace when Dean’s eyebrows narrow and he tilts his head to the side. "Hmm?"

Needless to say, Dean’s not prepared for the assault on his shoulder when Cas brushes past him to go inside.

 

It’s more of a club than a bar—a little too Pop art for Dean’s taste, between the rainbow strobe lights and the disco balls straight from _Saturday Night Fever_ (not that Dean doesn’t like John Travolta, he’s just more of a Swayze guy), but he can’t complain when the whiskey’s good.

In the left-hand corner of the bar are four guys huddled over a pool table like shivering penguins, beat at their own black and white game and painted red thanks to Dean. He tips his drink in their direction with a devious smirk before they waddle off.

On the other side, people mingle. Some a little closer than others, but everyone just seems… happy. Or, at least happier than the usual drunk crowd. He’s never seen anything like it. Despite the pop-rock crap blaring over the loudspeakers, drowning out everything except the high alcohol content in their systems, they’re content to just be alive. It’s sort of contagious, if Dean’s being honest.

“What is it?” Cas asks next to him. Dean just huffs a laugh.

“I… um… ‘m just thinking about what Sam’s gonna do when he finds out I replaced all the boxers in his suitcase with lady’s underwear.”

Cas shakes his head and cracks a small smile, obviously not believing him, but also not questioning Dean’s rare moment of happiness. Then, Dean’s focus is on the man that bumps into Cas heading the opposite way. He’s good-looking, slicked-back brown hair and a strong jawline shaved with the precision of someone peeling back the layers of an apple with a knife. “Wow, lucky me,” he breathes.

Cas reclaims his famous squinty eyes and head tilt. “Excuse me?”

“I made it into Heaven.”

Dean chokes on his whiskey. Meanwhile, Cas is still looking at the guy like he handed him a problem involving the quadratic formula. “I don’t…”

“Catch you around, handsome.”

And with that, the man is gone, blending into the sea of light on the dancefloor.

“Dude,” Dean scoffs, setting his drink down, “I can’t believe that just happened.”

“What?”

“Cas, that guy wanted the key to your Pearly Gates,” Dean chuckles, “‘Lucky me’? ‘I made it into Heaven’?” Cas still doesn’t seem enlightened so Dean persists, “He was flirting you!”

Cas lifts his head, but his eyebrows don’t move from their rigid place. “Oh. I just thought he was delusional.”

Dean laughs and returns to nursing his whiskey, “Cas, I love you and hate you at the same time.”

“Dean?”

Dean turns around to two familiar faces and breaks into a grin. Honestly, he should’ve expected it. They’re in New Mexico, of all places. “No way,” Dean says nonetheless, engulfing the first man in a bro-hug, then the second. “How have you guys been? Been living out your Mexican Brokeback fantasy?”

Jesse returns the grin. “You better believe it. Although, less man-angst and a lot more nudity.”

“It is a shame about the lack of Gyllenhaal though,” Cesar adds.

“That’s…” Dean squeezes his eyes for emphasis. “Yeah, that’s a mental image.”

“Who are you?” Jesse asks, gesturing to Cas.

“Oh right, Cas, Jesse. Cesar. Guys, Cas. He’s an angel.”

Jesse and Cesar shake Cas’s hand and take in the two like Lewis and Clark trying to figure out GPS, and then start to nod slowly, framing their small smiles with their bearded faces. "Right,” they say in unison.

Dean’s about to question the nonchalance in that response when Cesar asks, “So, what monster dragged you in?” He lifts his Guinness as if to prepare for the bad news. It's always bad news when you're a hunter. You're always looking at the obits, never hesitating to wonder if one of your own is going to be in there. "Hopefully it's not another Bisaan."

Dean chuckles, “Definitely not another Bissan. Kitsune.”

“Isn’t that like a wraith?” Jesse poses. “They both feed on brain matter, but one has claws and the other has a weird Wolverine mutation?”

Dean throws his head back and looks to Cas, who looks equally stumped. “He may have a point,” he says.

“Alright everyone, it’s midnight—you know what that means!” a male voice interrupts over the loudspeakers. “It’s time to bring out Johnny!”

“Who’s—? _Oh my God.”_ Dean’s mouth drops at the sight of two heavy-set men bringing out a mechanical bull. Even though it’s only been a year, it feels like forever since he’s ridden one of those, mostly because… well, he can’t _remember_ riding it after the whole witch-memory-wiping spell. All he knows is he kicked ass because he won over that cute bartender’s affections.

“Anyone brave enough to step up and tackle the raging beast?” the announcer teases.

“Yeah, bull riding is big around these parts,” Cesar says, “but since we’re amongst city folk, no one actually wants to venture out to a place with no cell phone reception to ride a _real_ one.”

“What’s the purpose of bull riding?” Cas asks. “I mean, I understand it’s a sport, but don’t most people just get bucked off anyway? Who would attempt something so reckless and—?”

“Out of the way,” Dean declares, brushing past the two hunters.

“Alright! We have our first contestant and my _my,_ isn’t he delicious? I think we found James Dean’s cousin!”

Interesting choice of words, but the crowd roars in agreement and Dean accepts the compliment. Especially when mentioned in the same sentence as the original _Rebel Without a Cause._

“What’s your name, cowboy?”

“Dean, Dean Winchester!” he exclaims into the microphone passed to him, scanning the crowd for the three men. Cesar and Jesse are stifling laughter and Cas’s jaw is slack already. Wait until he sees Dean in action.

And he does, not only judging by the slew of compliments—mostly male, but he’ll take it—from the fellow patrons, but lasting a solid ten seconds on the machine. Despite being out of breath, he picks himself from the floor with enough confidence to illuminate a lighthouse and strides back over to the group with a wide smile. “So, am I ready to tame a real bull?”

The husbands burst into laughter and Dean’s smile wavers a little. “What?”

“I’d let you ride me any day of the week.”

Dean turns to see the man paying him the compliment, wide-mouthed now for a totally different reason. “I, um… you… huh?”

“Mmm, damn, I’ll say,” another one says, passing behind the other guy, “the stamina on you.”

“Cas, do you wanna tell him?” Jesse asks in-between bouts of laughter.

Dean turns to Cas, who’s schooling his face into a more grave expression. Like the time a twelve-year-old Dean’s _Playboy_ stash slipped out of his bag while rummaging around for his homemade rifle during a hunt and his dad had to pretend to be more surprised. “Dean,” he starts, laying a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “it’s okay. I accept you for who you are.”

“What’re you…?” That’s when it hits him: The flashy decorations, the flirty male patrons with their suggestive compliments, the off-brand addition of the bull riding machine… and, of course, just so happening to run into Jesse and Cesar of _all_ the pubs in New Mexico. Dean just never pictured them the type to be at— “A gay club. It’s a gay club… _I_ am in a gay club.”

“We thought you two were a thing.” Cesar gestures to Dean and Cas. “You know, because you said he was an angel. I didn’t know you meant a _real_ angel until I asked him how he felt about all those guys that’ll be staring at his boyfriend’s ass. That _is_ the purpose of Johnny, after all.”

“No, I mean—no, we’re not together, I’m not…” Dean sighs, defeated by his own Sam-sized mistake.

“Dean, we can leave if you’re uncomfortable,” Cas offers.

Dean turns to him and sees those wide-eyed blues staring back at him in the most kind, understanding way—in a way Dean’s never known he could be looked at growing up until he met his best friend. The small smile that lifts the left side of his face like one side of a teeter-totter ascending into the sky tells Dean that even the smallest force, like Dean’s presence, can give Cas wings again.

At the thought, a smile finds Dean’s own lips just before his hand does Cas’s. After blinking a few times, Cas looks up and smiles, full-on gums and all this time, as he and Dean move in unison to intertwine their fingers.

They can talk about this later.

For now, they join the throng of dancing bodies and, God help them, even catch a case of the happies.

 

 


End file.
